


Keep a piece of you with me

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonsa babies - Freeform, Married Jonsa, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-10 00:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: "So, don't go!"Jon chuckled despite himself, quickly sobering when Lyanna glared at him."Gods, you are so like your mother sometimes," he commented fondly. "I left her for a very long time once. I couldn't write to her about anything that was happening, she was so worried. I promised her that I would never be gone so long again, and between you and I, sweetheart." He shuffled closer, pretending to glance around in fear of Sansa appearing through the door. He was a little proud at the fact his daughter pressed her lips together to prevent her smile. "I wouldn't be brave enough to anger your mother again.""Mother is scary when she's angry," Lyanna agreed, her anger at him forgotten for a brief second. So, Jon pressed his advantage, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the bracelet."I keep this with me all the time, I've never taken it off," he explained. "I know you don't see it because it's under my sleeve, but I do."





	Keep a piece of you with me

**Author's Note:**

> For the father prompt of Jonsa week

“I hate you!”

Jon’s eyes closed as the door slammed shut before him, his daughter’s words still ripping through his heart.

“Lyanna,” he murmured, knocking gently on the door.

“Go away! You always leave anyway!”

“I don’t want to leave sweetling!” Jon sighed, frustration bleeding through his words and making him huff again, annoyed with himself. “Lyanna, open the door please.”

“No!”

Realising defeat, he sighed again and slowly made his way back to his chambers. Sansa smiled sympathetically when she spied him in her mirror. Her brush was on the table instantly before she was up and across the room, her arms holding him close.

“She’ll be alright,” she whispered, squeezing him tight. “Give her a few more minutes.”

“I wish she could understand that I don’t leave because I want to,” Jon replied, stepping out of his wife’s comforting embrace, too hurt and frustrated to appreciate it.

“Perhaps you should tell her about this,” Sansa suggested, pulling his sleeve up.

The bracelet was well-worn, the leather starting to split and the flowery patterns starting to fade. Lyanna had made it for him when she was five, clearly having inherited her mother’s talent for the finer arts. He has never taken it off in the two years since.

Robb was only two and Brandon was still a babe, both thankfully too young to start resenting their father for his frequent journeys away from home. Jon dreaded the day when all his children began to hate him like Lyanna seemed to.

“She doesn’t hate you at all,” Sansa said, breaking his thoughts as though she had been able to hear them. “She is confused and upset. Sometimes we say things in the moment, gods you know what Arya and I used to be like. We never truly hated each other though.”

“No,” Jon agreed, looking down to the bracelet again. “I think you’re right though.”

Sansa grinned, kissing his cheek. “I often am, my love.”

Lacing her fingers through his own, she pulled him back into the corridor to their daughter’s room.

“Lyanna,” she called softly, rapping her knuckles on the door. “Can we come in?”

The slow creak of the bar echoed around them but the door remained shut. Giving him an encouraging smile, Sansa pushed it open. Lyanna was glaring at the wall ahead of her, arms folded across her chest. 

"Lyanna," Jon urged, moving into the room. Sansa softly closed the door behind him, giving them privacy.

"You always go," his daughter mumbled, voice thick with the threat of tears.

"I don't want to," he said, moving to kneel in front of her. His daughter continued to glare at her lap instead of at him. "Being a King isn't easy sweetling. I miss you all very much, every day I'm away."

"So, don't go!"

Jon chuckled despite himself, quickly sobering when Lyanna glared at him.

"Gods, you are so like your mother sometimes," he commented fondly. "I left her for a very long time once. I couldn't write to her about anything that was happening, she was so worried. I promised her that I would never be gone so long again, and between you and I, sweetheart." He shuffled closer, pretending to glance around in fear of Sansa appearing through the door. He was a little proud at the fact his daughter pressed her lips together to prevent her smile. "I wouldn't be brave enough to anger your mother again."

"Mother  _is_ scary when she's angry," Lyanna agreed, her anger at him forgotten for a brief second. So, Jon pressed his advantage, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the bracelet.

"I keep this with me all the time, I've never taken it off," he explained. "I know you don't see it because it's under my sleeve, but I do. So then, I have a part of you with me all the time."

His daughter's fingers reached out and tentatively stroked across the rough leather. Jon watched as she smiled slowly, finally meeting his eyes. He opened his arms out in silent request and while she pretended to continue to make a fuss, taking her time, she fell into his arms all the same, her little arms clasping around his neck.

"Maybe," she started, shaking her head before she finished her thought.

"Maybe?" he prompted, leaning back to look at her.

"Maybe mother could be scary with everyone and tell them to stop calling you away!" she suggested innocently, making Jon bark out a laugh.

"Aye," he commented fondly. "Perhaps that is an idea little wolf."


End file.
